


the prodigal son

by tattletwink



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:21:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>metal gear au where liquid shows up at motherbase at the ripe age of nineteen with expectations of a fatherly reception from big boss. kaz and ocelot, caught in the middle of their downright hostile relationship, attempt to balance big boss's wishes while furthering the msf's greater agenda.</p><p>pairings will be tagged as they arise, though to start there is definitely big boss/ocelot and big boss/kaz</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, you’re going to want to come down here.”

 

Ocelot looks up with idle curiosity from the pistol he’d been cleaning, long legs crossed up on his desk. It isn’t very often he’s summoned down to the office, let alone by a soldier. He returns the rag and gun oil to their drawer. He moves to follow, fixing the soldier with a careful glance, holstering the pistol with a flourish of the wrist.

 

When he reaches the office it looks like he’s missed the worst of whatever’s happened. Personnel files, weapon requisition forms, and Metal Gear ZEKE data spreadsheets line the floor like scattered leaves Kaz’s desk is completely cleared and Kaz and John are standing mere feet from each other, fixed points in the wake of the chaos. 

 

Ocelot enters carefully, picking his steps through the paperwork. Silver spurs click an arrival he isn’t sure is desired.

 

John doesn’t looking back at him, his gaze fixed on Kaz. Altercations aren’t uncommon on Mother Base, god knows most of the troops have seen John and his Second-In-Command lock horns more often than once. But the energy in the room is haphazard, wrong.

 

Tension floods Ocelot’s body like a man submerged. It takes less than a moment to place the last time he’d felt that way. Gritting his teeth, Ocelot grimaces at the memory. It was the same sensation he’d get whenever Volgin was on the precipice of his temper, the warning scent of sharp ozone before the electrical strike putting his body on high alert.

 

He can’t see John, but he can see Kaz’s face and he is furious. 

 

His iconic sunglasses are nowhere to be seen. Ocelot guesses that they’re probably lying somewhere in the wreckage. Kaz doesn’t acknowledge his entrance either. His eyes, simmering with anger, are fixed on John. His bottom lip is split, a thin line of blood running down his chin. 

 

He’s bristling with outrage, but he’s also favoring his left side. Ocelot wonders how long they had it out before the soldiers felt compelled to come find him. His mouth is pulled into a ugly snarl and he holds himself upright though even a casual observer could see it’s with a great deal of pain.

 

“Get out of my sight,” John says coldly, his usually soft voice laced with lead.

 

Kaz makes to speak, but he shakes his head ruefully, before stalking off. He brushes past Ocelot, imparting a glance that communicates silent fury. Ocelot doesn’t have the full story, but he tips his head in acknowledgement. They aren’t close, but the both the nature of their relationships with John and the development of the MSF necessitate a kind of rapport.

 

Ocelot assumes it’s the preface to a later conversation. He isn’t so sure he’ll be taking him up on it, the taut line of John’s back speaks volumes. For a man so charismatic, John is anything is not dispassionate in his work. There are moments of wry amusement, disappointment, but outright anger fits him like a cheap suit.

 

It’s only when Kaz is gone that John turns back around. His knuckles are an angry red, minor cuts breaking the skin, but beyond that he’s relatively unscathed. His expression, unreadable. 

 

“What happened?”

 

Ocelot waits for him to respond, unafraid. It’s rare that he can say that he’s uninformed of the happenings on Mother Base, but whatever Kaz has been playing at, he’s been sure to keep Ocelot in the dark. He doesn’t fear the worst, but the deception stings more than he expects, not out of any personal feelings towards the man but out of annoyance at his own complacency.

 

He waits as John composes himself, rubbing his hands as he breathes in deeply. Ocelot ignores his growing curiosity, it will only be a matter of time before John explains. It’s better to be patient in circumstances as unusual as these.

 

“I need you to take over training drills for the next few days until I decide what to do with Kaz,” He says, voice soft again.

 

“Of course.”

 

 It’s been a long time since he’s had his own unit, let alone been responsible for the development of a large numbers individual soldiers, but he watches the drills almost daily.

 

Kaz is something to see on the field. An enigmatic leader, he strikes a careful balance of discipline and charm that inspires admiration and respect. The soldiers love him almost as much as they love John, even as he asks them to push themselves just shy of the breaking point.

 

John places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes tightly.

 

Closing the gap between them, Ocelot plants a soft kiss on his forehead. John’s exhale is shaky, a momentary break in the ice. There is a vulnerability, flickering and weak. He shields it in his palm like a match against the wind. Perhaps, he will have to have that chat with Miller after all.

 

Looking out the window, Ocelot catches his first glance at the problem. In the arms of two soldiers, a teenage boy watches them from afar. Forgetting himself, their positions of authority at MSF, Ocelot tenses at the sudden feeling of exposure. 

 

There isn’t a question that the soldiers know more than a little about the relations between their leaders, but they no better than to cast more than a cursory glance during any brief moments of affection. There’s an impertinence in the boy way the boy stares.

 

It’s a distance, but the resemblance cuts through glass with eerie precision. His pulse quickens. ‘It’s not possible,’ he thinks bluntly. For a moment he forgets about John’s past, the radiation, the impossibility, he’s so struck by the youth’s face.

 

“You never told me you had a son,” 

 

John’s jaw tightens and he pulls away. 

 

“I don’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out Ocelot doesn’t need to go looking to find Kaz. When he returns to his room the sub commander is posted outside of his door, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Ocelot regards him coolly as he unlocks the door with a keycard. The side of his face is beginning to swell. He’ll look like hell in the morning.

“Can we talk?” Kaz asks, voice raw.

“Seems like I don’t have a choice in the matter,” Ocelot remarks gesturing him inside in with a wave of his hand. Kaz flicks the cigarette over the railing, his mouth a hard line. Something tells Ocelot that his sense of humour will be absent for the rest of the night.

He follows Kaz inside, sloughing off his jacket and hanging on the coat rack. Kaz walks over to his desk, casting impatient glances out of the window. It doesn’t read as unease, rather an eagerness to state his case. “By all means, start talking,” Ocelot drawls as he pinches off his gloves 

He dons a mask of cool disinterest as Kaz begins his story; the beginning discussions, John as the perfect subject, the birth of the twins, the scientific processes, the significance of cloning developments to modern warfare. From the intimate details of obtaining John’s genetic materials to the abstract theoretical justifications and moralizations for the betrayal, Kaz spares no details.

Seated on his bed, Ocelot is largely silent, interjecting every now and then with a question. There is a lot of information to check, dates to confirm, scientists to track down. Kaz’s bitterness over John’s reaction fades as he explains everything to a new audience. It’s at once an explanation and an appeal.

Kaz believes what he’s saying, that much is clear. The man has always had his own agenda, a rather transparent one at that. His actions were a betrayal of John’s trust, but the case he argues in favor of the twins is persuasive. Ocelot’s loyalties remain with John and John alone, but the more Kaz speaks it becomes clear that clones can’t simply be cast aside. 

Their future value is undeniable and at this point unquantifiable. They could prove to be integral resources with enough influence.

When Kaz finishes the sun is just beginning to set. 

“He needs to stay here. It’s a security issue. We can’t keep moving him from location to location. He needs training and supervision. Boss may not like it, but this kid is going to be the future of MSF.”

“Boss isn’t going to like it,” Ocelot corrects, idly, “how do you suggest warming him to the idea. Your face is more than enough evidence that your conversation didn’t go as planned.”

Kaz chuckles bitterly, “What conversation? He saw Liquid, I tried to explain and the next thing I know he’s laying into me.”

“What did you expect?” 

“I knew he’d be upset. I didn’t think he’d burn so hot so goddamn fast,” Kaz shrugs, “Figured I would get further into it before he hit me. It’ll be better when you talk to him.”

Ocelot bristles at the presumption. “Just because I’m sympathetic doesn’t mean I’m going to get involved. You thought to keep me out of this for quite some time, what makes you think I’ll rush to your side now?” 

He can’t help but think of how much of an anomaly the outburst was, how seldom he’s ever seen John truly angry. He likes to think he knows John better than anyone, but the events of the afternoon give him pause. He can only take solace in the fact that Kaz seems to be equally bewildered, their time together during the lost years not giving him any additional insight to the man.

“I kept you out because you would have told him, simple as that. There was no duplicity here beyond what was necessary. Either you talk reason to him or I get Liquid off the base and we lose a valuable asset and stand to face major complications ten years down the line.” 

Kaz’s pragmatism is impossible to ignore to Ocelot’s irritation.

The man makes good points, but Ocelot doesn’t make it a habit accept a man’s words at face value. He has serious doubts about the man’s sincerity about cutting ties with project that’s been development for the past nineteen years on a whim. 

Besides, as it stands, removing Liquid wouldn’t even begin to end their current predicament. Now that Ocelot knows of the existence of him and his brother they aren’t playing pieces that can be taken off the board for the sake of emotional convenience.

Kaz’s loyalty is Ocelot’s primary concern. The man practically built the MSF. They’ll need to proceed with caution with something this important on the line. No, getting rid of Liquid isn’t an option, as much as he’d like placate John’s rage by playing the yes-man.

“You’re going to suffer for it, but I think I can plead a case for Liquid’s safety, at least until you can come up with a better solution. John isn’t going to like him being here, he’s going to like you even less after this whole drama is through.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Kaz says too quickly, the rationalization ready on his lips, “give him time. Once Liquid is trained he’ll be an invulnerable operative, we can begin the next stage in development of MSF. This wasn’t an opening gambit, I didn’t risk Boss’s trust over a pipedream. He’s hurt right now, feels a betrayed, but with time he’ll see that this was the right call.”

“He’s never wanted sons.” Ocelot observes, moving towards the door.

Kaz rises from the edge of his desk to follow. “Liquid isn’t his son, he’s his clone,” he corrects, adjusting his jacket.

Ocelot brushes away the dismissal with a wave of his hand.

“Semantics. No one in the world has a clone, not even Liquid. He has a brother, you said so yourself. Whether or not it’s biological fact, for all intents and purposes Liquid will be seen as his son and him, his father. I have to wonder if you factored this in to all of your planning.”

Kaz is silent.

“Most men want sons. A legacy that will outlive their own failures, a hook onto which they can hang an excuse for their own failures. The next in line will go further, have greater success and thus the disappointments of the previous generation are forgiven. Men achieve immortality not through memory, but through blood. What does it say about a man who doesn’t want sons?”

“I don’t know, Ocelot, you tell me. You seem to have some knowledge of the subject.” Kaz murmurs, voice sarcastic. His hand fishes through his pockets for his cigarette case. Graceful fingers bring an unlit stick to his mouth as he waits for Ocelot to continue, humouring his musings with fading interest.

Ocelot laughs, appreciating the deflection. “I’m afraid that my reasons are different from those of the man in question. What about you? Have you escaped the clutches of your own mortality between a woman’s thighs.”

“Not that I know of,” Kaz answers wryly, lips turning up into a smirk.

“That you know of,” Ocelot repeats, “considerate of you to stay on top of an important subject like your own procreation.”

Kaz’s smirk falls. “Don’t give me that.” There’s an edge of hostility in his voice. There’s a nerve there, aching for further stimulation. He’ll have to a follow up on this conversation sometime, chase the reaction to its origin.

“Let’s hope you make a better mother than you do a father.” Ocelot retorts breezily as he walks him to the door. “I’ll talk to him tonight, if I were you I’d do as he says and stay out his way. At least for the time being.”

“I don’t need to be told twice.” Kaz says grimly.

Ocelot watches him make his way against the setting sun. Mother Base is beautiful this time of evening, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows that cut deep into the bright decks. He watches the sun set, waiting for darkness to fall before making his way to John’s room.


	3. Chapter 3

John’s still awake when he arrives. Sitting on a chair with an array of medical supplies on the stand next to him, he cocks his head over his shoulder, glancing over at Ocelot briefly. 

“Missed you at dinner,” He murmurs, turning back to his task of carefully applying antiseptic to a cotton swab. He looks worse than before. His forearms and chest are littered with cuts and scrapes, irritated patches of skin flushed pink. More than anything he looks like the tired soldier, patching himself back up by route memory.

Ocelot strides towards him, eyeing the damage. So the conversations he’d overheard en route were true. It’s always the talk of Mother Base whenever John takes on the soldiers personally. By the looks of it, it wasn’t restricted to hand to hand combat alone, a long few serrated line on his bicep indicating the presence of MSF issued combat knives.

“I had to handle some things.” He drapes himself over John’s shoulder, pecking his cheek. “Biting off more than we can chew, I see.” He comments, fingers tracing a particularly bad cut, “Now the question is are soldiers are getting that much better or are you just getting rusty, old man?”

John shrugs, “They are getting good, but it wasn’t one on one combat either. Probably a mix of both.” He sounds worn through and through, so much so that Ocelot bites back his disdain at John facing multiple armed combatants in unarmed combat. 

One on one combat with a knife doesn’t pose a serious risk to the old man, John knows better than anyone how to evade and disarm an armed opponent. Add a few more people to the mix and the odds of getting seriously injured jump tenfold.

And that’s not taking into consideration that the soldiers in question have studied under Kaz’s tutelage and learned CQC themselves. It’s unnecessary recklessness. There must have been a lot of them to get so close. He grits his teeth when he thinks about it.

“You’re making a mess,” Ocelot huffs unable to staunch his annoyance, snatching the cotton ball from John’s hand. Dragging a chair from the other side of the room he sits in down next to John and sets to wiping down each wound with rubbing alcohol, ignoring the soft hisses of discomfort as he applies more pressure than entirely necessary. 

They sit in silence for awhile as Ocelot moves from wound to wound, applying ointment and bandaging as necessary. His temper cools in his veins as he sees that the damage looks worse than it is, most of the hits inflicting only superficial damage. It was still a stupid decision, but he doesn’t appear worse for wear from it. John’s skin is warm beneath his fingers, his pulse a comforting baseline.

“I spoke to Kaz.” He says eventually, readying a needle to suture up the deepest knife wound on John’s bicep. He doesn’t look at him, eyes fixed on the black nylon thread. John’s breathing doesn’t betray a response.

John doesn’t speak so Ocelot continues, holding the needle with forceps he moves to begin the first stitch, the line of silver dipping into skin to resurface on the other side. “Liquid has to stay on Mother Base.”

“And if I want him dead?” John asks coolly. Ocelot listens, pulling the needle back, tying off the first neat stitch. He looks up to see John watching him, face impassive but his eye betraying a promise of anger. Looking back down at his work, he begins the second stitch, tongue peaking over his lip as he finds gets the right placement. He takes pride in precision in everything he does.

“Then…” The needle threads back up, “I go down to his quarters and I kill him tonight. Tomorrow morning, we announce Miller’s betrayal and he’ll face summary execution before sundown. Then we begin a search for a new second-in-command and hope to find someone that can rival Miller’s expertise in both field combat, training, and the business aspects of running a mercenary base.”

John growls, “I’m not losing Kaz over this.”

“It’s not a suggestion I give lightly,” He pauses, thread taut as he gives John a serious look, “he’s invested too much into Liquid to walk away now, like it or not the attachment is nonnegotiable. If Liquid dies, we’ll be dealing with someone who not only has an intimate knowledge about the finances, security detailing, and inner structuring of MSF but the loyalty of a significant population of the soldiers. He’ll be too much of a liability to keep alive, caged or otherwise.”

John doesn’t respond. Ocelot’s eyes flicker up to catch John rubbing his face with his other hand. He can feel the anger emanating off of him in waves, practically tastes ozone painting the back of his throat. Old memories die hard it seems. 

If his fingers are a little less delicate, less practiced John doesn’t notice. The needle dips and pulls leaving neat black ladder along the swoop of the cut.

He starts in his seat when John slams a fist down on the arm of his chair. “Goddamn it, Kaz.” Grinding his teeth, John’s hand comes back to his face. Ocelot watches the rise of his chest. Again he’s exposed, both in the literal and figurative sense. Ocelot knots and snips the nylon thread, moving to stand. His fingers trace a path up from John’s arm along the line of his neck, pulling him to face him.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Anger gives way to something deeper, to a more feral emotion. Tracing his beard, John looks almost young in this light. There’s a sharpness in his eye that’s undiminished. Ocelot tips his face up with careful hands, kisses John softly, peppers his skin with tender reassurances. A strong arm encircles his waist, pulling him into John’s lap as he deepens the kiss.

They don’t fit together as well as they used to, he’s since broadened and filled out since his days as a youth in Groznyj Grad, but it doesn’t matter. As John pulls him closer, he feels the same sense of calm he did when he was an arrogant, impossible youth. Straying so far from John, only to be pulled back by soft words and strong arms.

“If Kaz wants to play mother hen, let him.” He mutters as John noses along his throat. “I can take over the soldiers and drilling duties until we can figure things out. We’ll restructure regardless so if the worse happens, we can remove them with minimum fallout. I don’t anticipate the need arising, Kaz will play if he gets what he wants, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

John breaks from his ministrations, breath hot against Ocelot’s skin, “And what do you think about all of this? ” His gaze rises to reach Ocelot’s own.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Ocelot murmurs, mindful of the fragile territory upon which he’s treading, “The boy has value, no matter how infuriating the circumstances surrounding of his creation are. Getting rid of him without consideration would be foolish. Kaz seems to think they can remake you. I’m not that optimistic. But there’s nothing to say we can’t break the boy down for parts if the need arises.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” John answers with surprising finality.

“Hmm? 

“If something happens to me, you’ll take whatever’s necessary from whoever is willing,” He outlines carefully, “If I find out either you or Kaz have given me so much as a blood transfusion from that mistake I’ll kill you myself. As far as I’m concerned that thing doesn’t exist.” 

His glance doesn’t waiver. John has never threatened him before, not seriously. There’s no volume in his voice, only the quiet promise of retribution, it simultaneously sends fear and arousal tingling up Ocelot’s spin. He listens, he always does, but he knows that the second John’s life is endangered, that if the need arises neither he nor Kaz will hesitate to override his wishes. 

Dying at John’s hand, now that would be something, he ponders.

“We won’t use him if that’s how you feel.” He assures John slowly. The heart of a good lie is never in what you say, but how you say it. Ocelot feigns sincerity easily, continues, “we’ll wait until after he’s trained to send him out something black ops and then if he happens to die due to unforeseen circumstances, Kaz will be none the wiser and the situation will be dealt with.” 

John holds his gaze a moment longer. Fear creeps up Ocelot’s throat at the thought of the lie being examined under his careful gaze, but then John turns away, kisses his shoulder before guiding him up. 

He may not believe him wholesale, but there’s enough of a trust for him to leave it be.


	4. Chapter 4

Kaz groans, his head feels two sizes too big and his mouthy is cottony and dry. He drank too much last night, cracking open a bottle of whisky he’d been saving for something special shortly after leaving Ocelot’s room. It seemed like having your lover kick your ass was occasion enough to dive headfirst into a finer vintage. 

He’d made the right decision, he had told himself, sipping until the early hours of the morning as he turned the chain of events over and over in his mind. Things could have gone better, but everything would even out.

Slightly hungover, he stumbles into his office to discover that no one had cared to deal with the ruins of the day previous. It’s not as though any of the soldiers were cleared to look through the files, but they could have at least picked up the papers he thinks bitterly. His stomach lurches traitorously as he gets down on his knees to gather up the documents lining the floor. 

Thankfully, he’s spared the curious gaze of onlookers, save for the night shift security detail, and is allowed to suffer alone. He never could sleep well after drinking and as a result manages to have everything restored to near pristine order just as dawn breaks.

Collapsing in his desk, it was all he can do to review his workload for the day. He fills out a few supply orders, reviews the cost estimates for the next month’s operation schedule. He starts scrawling out requests with a fountain pen, before setting it down. He’s too unfocused to be productive, threading his fingers through his hair, he can only think about Boss.

He prays that Ocelot’s silver tongue is worth something. Liquid wasn’t the only person at risk by his being brought to Mother Base. Kaz remembers the outburst, the venom in Big Boss’s voice, the fragile moment of realization before all hell broke loose.

“Sir?” A soldier interrupts him from his thoughts. He looks up from his work. Hawk, he recalled, she’s with the sniper unit. They’d had a tryst a few months back, unlike a select few she’d understood what exactly their relationship had entailed. The curvy brunette looks good, maybe even better now. The time served on Mother Base had bestowed sharpness in her eyes that Kaz finds alluring.

“I’m busy at the moment,” he responds, moving to retrieve a new balance sheet from his drawer, “but I’ll be free in half an hour or so if you want to drop by then.” He tries his best to sound friendly. Kaz knows his flippancy is unprofessional even given the special circumstances, but he can’t bring himself to deal with people yet. Unfazed, she doesn’t move from her post.

“Big Boss sent me,” she says, voice level, “I’m to relay instructions.”

Kaz didn’t think his mood could darken any further, but sitting at his desk listening to one of his own soldiers, an ex-lover no less, explain to him how it was going to be is too much. He gets it, Big Boss is pissed, but this is humiliating. Hawk outlines what she’d been told while he’d fidgets in his seat, biting his tongue to keep from lashing out at her. 

His blood roars in his ears while he nods tightly, writing down the necessary details. Somehow he manages the grace to thank her for the indignity he’s suffered, rises to escort her to the door. She watches him carefully, her brown eyes following his. He gripped by an impulsive desire to fuck her, to try to salvage his reputation. He rests a hand on her hip, an implicit offer.

Hawk looks down at the offending hand then back at him, expression neutral. “I should go, sir. Drills will be starting soon.”

“Of course,” he’d agrees amicably, pretending that it had only been an innocent gesture. 

The few hours after Hawk had brought his orders are not enough to cleanse his palate of his anger. Ocelot’s brazen entrance to his office merely exacerbates the situation. Kaz bristles at the intrusion, already spoiling for a fight. The man takes a seat in front of Kaz’s desk, legs crossing while he waits patiently for Kaz’s attention. Kaz signs the memo under his hands with extra flourish before looking up, jaw clenched.

“Ocelot,” 

“Hello Miller. Sleep well?” A small smirk plays at the his lips, eyes following Kaz’s figure.

“What the hell is Boss doing breaking the chain of command and sending soldiers to brief me on Mother Base restructuring plans?” Kaz snaps. He doesn’t have patience for whatever civilities Ocelot cares to indulge in today. “Plans, by the way,” he adds, “I have intention of signing off on until he comes and speaks to me,” 

“Clearly well I see,” Ocelot demurs, before continuing, “You’ll sign off on the plans whether you see him or not because they are conditional to Liquid remaining on Mother Base. I can’t speak to the soldier briefing, I had no hand in that decision.”

“Liquid can stay?” Kaz asks, breathing easier, “That’s good.” The muscles in his shoulder relax. Persuading Boss to let him keep Liquid on base for training and observation was the biggest concern looming in his mind. The strain on his relationship with Boss could be remedied with time, but without Liquid Kaz would be forced to improvise a new plan. “However, I don’t see how Mother Base’s current structure has anything to do with-“

“And nor should you,” Ocelot cuts him off, voice sharp, “You broke the rules, Miller, and as such there are consequences. You’ve been stripped of a few responsibilities and saddled with new ones, primarily the care and training of Liquid, which I might remind you, you desperately wanted. All of which pale in comparison to what could have happened, so try to swallow your pride and show a little gratitude” 

Kaz’s eyes narrow.

“Gratitude? I’m not an idiot, Ocelot. I know a power play when I see one. I’m just supposed to smile while you usurp half my responsibilities and poach the best soldiers to form your own unit?”

“I don’t care if you’re smiling, Miller. Just know that I’m the only reason you and that boy still breathe so try to keep that in perspective.”

Kaz should’ve seen this coming. Leave it to the spy to exploit any weakness he has for personal gain. He doesn’t believe Boss would kill for an instant, but he doesn’t doubt Ocelot saved Liquid from a quick demise. He feels foolish and frustrated with himself. 

Like it or not, he owes Ocelot, even if he did purposefully set out to claim as much territory as he wanted in the process. He looks away, studying the movements outside of his window. “I would have given you your own unit if you’d asked you know,” he says finally.

“Then it isn’t a punishment.” Ocelot replies smoothly, allowing Kaz a fragment of his dignity to cling to if it will ease the process. “You have what you want and then some If Liquid’s going to be the soldier you make him out to be you’ll need to invest time into his development. Where’s he being kept?”

“I had him sent to Med Bay for biometric scans and a full physical this morning,” Kaz answers, his frustration with himself subsiding into reluctant civility. Liquid is a subject of which he’s been desperate to discuss. Discussing it with Ocelot, not matter how shallowly, makes it feel real, like the work’s he done is moving towards a point. “There are scant records of Boss from at that age, but there’s enough that once we start training I can work out a halfway decent comparison analysis.”

“Good,” Ocelot says, “Keep me posted on his developments.”

“As long as you keep me in the loop with how you’re running the soldiers, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Kaz says primly. Ocelot may be running the soldiers now, but not without a degree of oversight. MSF’s military capabilities can’t be threatened by internal politics, and like it or not Ocelot’s a skilled marksman, but he’s lacking the necessary background for a role of this nature.

“Of course,” Ocelot grins.

“One more thing.” Kaz says.

Ocelot pauses at the door, turning back.

“Boss is angry and that’s fine, but he can’t be sending soldiers down when he wants to relay orders. It’s poses a huge risk for MSF security and goes against the chain of command. I’d appreciate it if you could act as the in-between until our- issues are resolved.” 

Ocelot nods and exits, leaving Kaz alone to his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Kaz walks out onto the tarmac. They have a whole section cleared out for him and Liquid for drills. He still hasn’t seen Big Boss since the confrontation, but he tries not to dwell on it too much. There are larger considerations on his plate, namely the blonde recruit bristling in front of him.

“I want to see my father,” Liquid spits, seething with anger. Ever since, he’d been on the base he’d been adamant about seeing Big Boss, the desire of which had ultimately led to his reveal to the man way ahead of schedule. Liquid was cunning, Kaz had to give him that, temporarily shirking his security detail to locate the main hub in search of the man.

In photographs they’d sent Kaz, Liquid looked like the mirror image of Boss to the point where he’d found the déjà vu borderline unsettling. Thankfully, the resemblance fades in motion. The boy has his own mannerisms, curls his lip and postures with adolescent fury. It almost makes Kaz nostalgic for back when he was a soldier, when they’d teach the inexperienced recruits to heel.

There’s a cagey energy in Liquids movements, his lithe body crowding Kaz, glaring up at him spiteful eyes. Wearing regulation MSF gym clothes, he’s on full display for Kaz’s appraisal. He’s tall, already having reached Boss’s natural height, but there’s still a slenderness to his built, he’s yet to broaden out fully. They’ll have to put more muscle on him before sending him out.

Liquid doesn’t know much about himself yet. It had taken only one phone call to lure him away from the foster family, Kaz can practically smell the daddy issues on this kid. The demands to see a father he’d never known tell more of a story than Kaz needs to know. Still, Big Boss isn’t his father and Kaz isn’t above lying to get his way.

Liquid shoves him angrily, high color in his cheeks, yelling, “Are you listening to me? I said-“

The boy’s cry is cut short my Kaz’s offensive. Taking a cue from his old master, he deals with the first instance of insubordination with brutality. Overpowering the boy, he pulls Liquid into a chokehold easily, using the momentum of his body to drop him with vicious force. Before Liquid can react, Kaz pins him down with a cruel hand around his throat. Liquid’s pulse flutters under his index finger. 

Good, he’s scared. The boy struggles beneath him, but Kaz only tightens his grip, looking down at him with calm appraisal.

“We haven’t formally met yet, so I’ll make this brief. My name is Kazuhira Miller, but for the rest of your training you will refer to me as Master or Master Miller, whichever you prefer. If you lay a hand on me outside of a training exercise I will put you in Med Bay. Is that understood?”

Liquid chews his lip, anger reddening his face. Kaz waits for the answer patiently. There’s a willful pride to the boy Kaz can’t say he’s missed. Liquid pointedly turns away from him, looks to the soldiers training. Kaz wonders if Big Boss is out with the men, if Liquid’s caught him in his sights a bear of a man even at this distance. Kaz doesn’t look.

He drops a knee to the boy’s chest when he doesn’t respond. Liquid groans under the pressure.

“You’ll speak when spoken to.” Kaz reprimands, pressing down more weight. Liquid looks at him, green eyes furious. 

“Understood,” he says deadly even.

Kaz releases him, rising to stand. He extends a hand to help him up, but Liquid ignores it, scrambling back up on his own.

“Once I’m satisfied with your training and am confident in your abilities as an operative, I’ll introduce you to the man myself.” Liquid watches him carefully, assessing him for weakness. There’s still anger dancing in his eyes, but its giving way to something more predatory. Kaz continues, “Until then, you are my recruit and you will address me with all the respect my rank demands.”

“And how long will it be until you’re satisfied? I could always find him myself. I did before,” Liquid says in an affected monotone, stretching his arms behind his head, eyes flickering up at Kaz, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. There’s a hint of a challenge, but Liquid is smart enough to leave the statement as it. He’d seen them fight, the few moments before the guards had descended upon Liquid had been bloody mayhem. Boss didn’t pull punches, least of all with Kaz.

Fucking brat, Kaz thinks. Liquid hadn’t waited to use the only ammunition he had on Kaz, throwing it in his face with the bored smugness of a teenager. Nothing worse than a young recruit with an ego. Kaz could tell him about the expanded security, or better yet about how his ‘father’ in question would be more likely to kill him than entertain any thoughts of familial affection. But he doesn’t, instead he grins a beatific smile.

“I wouldn’t try that again, Liquid,” he says brightly. The kid will have to do a lot better to get a rise our of a man as old as him. Liquid’s falters at the upbeat response, his youthful confidence disappearing as quickly as it had emerged. Kaz almost feels a twinge of sympathy.

Liquid petulantly follows orders for the rest of the day. Kaz has him run laps under the boiling sunlight, all the while timing him on a stopwatch. Liquid isn’t in nearly good enough shape to begin CQC or weapons training, but he’s still an impressive specimen for his age group. Watching him run, his form almost perfect, Kaz can’t help but feel perversely at ease even in the oppressive summer heat.

Once Kaz is finished him, once Liquid is trained and moulded, even Boss won’t be able to deny the boy’s usefulness. The discomfort would pass, the betrayal would soften and mellow over time. Liquid’s blonde hair and green eyes would help. He’d be another soldier, Boss wouldn’t even need to see him, just benefit from his talents while growing ever richer and more powerful. 

With time things will improve, Kaz thinks, clicking the stopwatch as Liquid runs past him once more.


End file.
